“What a resourceful young man you are. So many Halflings die of demented starvation. It must have given you just enough to overcome the venom’s degradation. Very brilliant, young man,” Arius praises. “Lucan, I trust you will help our new friend become acquainted with this life?”
“Aye, Reveré. I will do everything possible to see he transitions well.”
“Very well. Then as soon as Jonathan returns from New Orleans, we will sign the order for Rozanov’s death. You and Zaid have done well and the Council thanks you.” He gives Zaid and Lucan a little bow. “Now, Abri, my dear, to the business of your binding. While we cannot perform the ceremony until Jonathan is present, I will promise you our protection until then. I will order the Council guard to be stationed at the Chrysler and we have a contact at your office that will alert us to anything suspicious.”
My mind is racing at the news that Jonathan has been unexpectedly called to New Orleans. I can’t help but think Jonathan’s absence is the result of an intervention by Hicks to give Serge a head start against us. None of us knows how well Serge knows Hicks; but we do know Serge connected Mark to Hicks and Hicks is connected to someone on the Council and New Orleans. Lucan’s face tells me he’s either had the same thoughts or has been listening to mine. I wish we could ask Arius and Sophie Collette about it but I know we can’t.
“Thank you, Arius,” I manage to respond.
Lucan cringes at my use of his first name but I don’t know his last name, or if he even has one. And since I’m not sure if it’s okay for me to call him Reveré, I don’t.
“It’s been such a long time since we’ve done a Sodali binding. I’m ecstatic.” Sophie beams, cutting into my train of thought. Her voice is cool, but then again she never really seems anything but. “I think the full formal ceremony is appropriate, even given the urgency, don’t you think?”
Like anyone has the ability to disagree. “I do,” Lucan replies for us all with a sincere smile.
Amelia reaches over and pats my arm. “I’ll send for my ceremony dress as soon as we leave here. You won’t have time to have one made. This is so exciting.”
I glance at Sarah and Mark. At least I am not alone in my confusion; they look equally overwhelmed with the discussion. The entire morning’s exchange has been so surreal. Here we are standing around kibitzing about dresses and parties with what, I assume, is the supreme law of the land for vampires, like it’s our regular Saturday morning brunch club. All we need are some coffee and a few Danish.
After all the buildup, the decisions on Serge and Mark’s lives have come rather easily and uneventfully. I am glad, but I feel a little deflated as well. Which, in and of itself, is stupid given the fact that I still have a giant fangy target on my back. Or was it my neck? Screw coffee, I need a drink.
After a little more polite conversation, Lucan dismisses us humans and half humans back into the hallway while he and Zaid finish their meeting with the Council. As the massive doors close behind us, Sarah lets out a huge sigh. “What the heck was all that?”
“That was Arius and Sophie, two thirds of the law in these parts—for vampires at least.”
“I got that part. But what is this about a ceremony? Are you and Lucan getting married?”
Well, I guess I wasn’t going to escape friendly concern over my sanity in binding with Lucan after all. I should be more careful with what I wish for. “Yeah, about that…”
Sarah and Mark listen as Amelia and I recount an abridged version of the Sodalis bond and its ability to protect me from Serge and restore Lucan’s soul. No matter how many times I hear about it or think about it, it is still a little ludicrous to me. I believe in it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sound crazy when spoken aloud.
When Amelia and I finish Sarah shakes her head in disbelief. “Do you think there is any hope for Mark and I in that department?”
“Ah, I don’t know, but, um, a blood exchange before the ceremony is performed kinda closes the door on it from what I understand.” I hate being the bearer of bad news.
“Oh.” She takes Mark’s hand again.
Lucan and Zaid file out of the Council chambers a few seconds later. Zaid is mumbling to himself again in some foreign tongue. The looks on their faces have me wondering if they’ve suffered for our unintended disrespect earlier. Maybe they’ve discussed the New Orleans/Hicks situation. Lucan shakes his head at me in answer to my thoughts but I don’t necessarily believe him.
The ride back to the Chrysler is fraught with clipped conversations attempting to fill the frustrated and emotionally drained void in the car. This is going to be a long week.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
With the Council meeting out of the way, there is nothing left to do but focus our efforts on finding Serge. Zaid and Lucan have turned the apartment into a command center, complete with a police scanner, several laptops, and a blow up map of the city. Everyone is staying with us until things are safer. It all makes me feel like we are part of some counterintelligence operation. It’s very Jason Bourne around here.
The movers arrive with my boxes just as we are sitting down to plan our next move. Ordinarily, I would be upset at not packing my own belongings but there is no way I am going back to my apartment with Serge on the loose—even if Zaid and Lucan have offered to go with me. I will have to go back for the furniture and to turn in my keys once things have calmed down in a few weeks. The landlord will be sad to lose a regular paying tenant, but five years is long enough in that rap trap.
When I come back upstairs from showing the movers the storage room Zaid is laying out his battle plan for the group.
“We know he’s not going back to the Essex and he hasn’t been in the park. I’m going to make another pass of his apartment. Even if he knows I’ve been there, it’s still the most logical place for him to go if he’s still in town.” Zaid’s irritation at his failure is palatable.
“He has a car so he could be anywhere, even outside the city. It’s a Mustang, but that’s all I remember.”
“Until we know something more, we need to be ultra careful. The stairwells above the sixty-fifth floor are sealed off and there are motion sensors that would make the Louvre jealous on every door and window. Zaid hacked into the elevator system; no one can get above the sixty-fifth floor without a retina scan.”
“What about the air ducts and stuff like that?” I ask. “And how are you going to keep out building maintenance needing to get to the top floors?”
“We operate on a separate system up here. It’s completely self-contained so he would have to get past the blockade on sixty-five first. As for maintenance, I own everything from sixty-six to the top of the spire. They have to ask my permission to come up here. I will be conveniently unavailable until further notice.”
“The only way he’s getting in here is by scaling the side of the fucking building,” Zaid confirms. “And Spider Man he’s not.”
One week. One week to kill until Jonathan is back and we can perform the ceremony. Okay, so maybe kill is a bad choice of words.
My mind wanders to thoughts of the ceremony while Zaid continues with his security briefing. Having my comrades in arms in attendance will be almost as good as having my human friends and family there. I plan to invite Max but I doubt he’ll want to come unless I promise he can do my hair and makeup. Not that I would refuse the help, or Amelia’s offer of a dress. Those areas of girl-dom are not in my realm of expertise. The hurried scraping of chairs against the marble floor brings me back to reality. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to check the bar where Serge met Mark,” Zaid answers. “Vampires only.”
“I'm not volunteering, trust me. Us ladies will just hang out here and supervise the movers.”
“Good idea,” Lucan says kissing my forehead. “The movers work for the Enclave so if there’s trouble, they will be here before you can scream.”
“You pick now to be sarcastic?” I tease. “Just be careful.”
CHAPTER FIF
TY-TWO
Mark was none too thrilled to go back to the bar where his life had ended, but it was the only lead they had at the moment. It was the only place besides Serge’s apartment that Mark knew he frequented.
Lucan parked the Hummer across the street and took something out of the briefcase in the back seat. Zaid was sniffing the air, trying to catch a scent. Mark felt a little inept compared to the other men. He couldn’t smell anything other than the faint twinge of sewage carried on every New York City breeze and he was pretty sure he didn’t possess super-human strength or speed. Hell, he hadn’t even been to the gym since he’d been turned so there probably wasn’t much normal human strength to draw on either. He could shoot. But would that even stop Serge?
“Let’s go inside and ask around,” Lucan commanded as he tucked whatever it was he’d taken from the briefcase under his jacket. As they crossed the street, Lucan palmed Mark the Glock again and Mark tucked it inside his waistband.
The three men filed into the bar. Mark’s last night as a human reared back and slapped him in the face. The smells of smoke, booze, and desperation were hot in his nose and his breakfast started to fight its way out. He swayed a little on his feet but Zaid pushed him forward. They took up residence at the end of the bar with their backs to the wall. The bartender walked over with a pile of cocktail napkins in her hand and flipped one in front of each of them.
“What can I get you boys?” she asked in a clichéd tone.
“Scotch rocks,” Zaid replied. Lucan nodded in agreement. Mark didn’t want anything, least of all a straight up Scotch, but he nodded as well. “You know this guy?”
Zaid pulled a copy of Serge’s Enclave employee badge out of his coat pocket and placed on the bar in front of the girl. She recoiled a little. This was the kind of place people didn’t take notice of each other in and she probably assumed they were cops… or mobsters. Neither of which would give anyone a reason to speak up. Hell, maybe Serge didn’t come in here all that often.
As he looked around at the faded and flickering neon signs illuminating the half dozen souls drinking themselves into oblivion on a Saturday morning, Mark wondered how he’d made it in here last summer himself.
“Yeah, I know that weirdo,” she said, putting three tumblers on the bar and leveling them off with a few fingers of Scotch. “He was in here last night. Late. Kept his sunglasses on the whole time and kept fumbling with his drink. I never got the sunglasses inside thing. You don’t look cool if you can’t see.”
Lucan and Zaid stiffened. That meant he wasn’t fully healed but he was definitely on the mend.
“He kept one hand inside his coat pocket all night too,” she continued. “My boss thought he was palming a gun under there so he kicked him out. He got real belligerent but left without a fight. Never took that hand out though, scares me to think he could’ve shot the place up. Is that why you’re looking for him? Did he shoot someone last night?”
Mark couldn’t believe how loquacious she was, telling them all they needed to know before asking if they were cops.
“Ah, no,” Lucan responded quickly. “He’s a friend of ours. He’s been on a binder for a few weeks and we’re worried. If he comes back in, will you call us?” Lucan wrote a phone number on a business card with the Enclave’s logo and handed it to her. She nodded and took the card.
Mark was impressed. The sympathy card was definitely the way to go. Zaid flipped a hundred dollar bill on the bar, slammed the Scotch and headed for the door. Lucan and Mark made quick work of their drinks and made their leave as well. Mark was instantly sickened by the burn of the straight up liquor tearing its way down his gut like lit gasoline.
Back in the Hummer, Mark was frustrated and a little lightheaded from the cheap booze. “Well that doesn’t really give us any help now does it?”
“Nope. But at least we know he’s not back to one hundred percent,” Lucan replied. “That is something to celebrate.”
“I’m going to check the recent police records for vampire related incidents and then go have a chat with the valet staff at the Enclave,” Zaid said front the back seat. “Let Amelia know I will be back later.” With that, he opened the Hummer’s door and was gone before it slammed shut.
“He really takes this tracking shit seriously.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. We should head back to the Chrysler. Without Zaid we’re more of a liability than an asset as far as tracking,” Lucan said, putting the truck in gear and pulling back into traffic. “I was never any good at it and I’m not risking you getting hurt. Sarah and Abri would kill me.”
Mark and Lucan drove back to the Chrysler in silence, both hoping Zaid found Serge sooner rather than later. Even if he didn’t have the Council’s permission to kill him, self-defense was self-defense. Even in the vampire world.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Monday morning dawns with no news of Serge. My new living arrangements, living with Lucan and four other people on the floor below us, make the continued uneasiness a little easier. It is fun. I haven’t had a roommate since law school and I never realized how much I missed the comradery and the ready-made party that roommates bring.
We watched the Super Bowl last night and the living room floor is littered with leftovers and empty beer bottles we were too tired and too tipsy to clean up before bed.
“No worries, love, we will clean it up this morning,” Lucan yawns next to me. I guess all the excitement of this weekend has worn him down and he’s actually still in bed with me. “I will be in the building today, well, after I go to the Enclave for a—”
“Breakfast?” I finish. “Or to puke up all that crap ya’ll ate last night.”
“Yeah.” The answer is deadpan and noncommittal as to which part he’s answering.
“Hey, just a few more days of it and then I can help you with the first part of that equation. I mean, if you decide you want to. Sarah says it doesn’t hurt. Max too.” I know how Lucan feels on the subject but I can’t help myself, I am nothing if not practical. I practically shout that last part in my head, hoping he is listening.
“There’s plenty of time to twist my arm on that. Do you have any vacation time at work?”
“Ah, yeah. Why?”
“I think you should call in this week until we find Serge or until the ceremony is complete. Not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, but we are stretching ourselves pretty thin with the search and, in case you haven’t figured it out, the Council’s contact at your firm is Max. He’s bound as a Patron to alert the Enclave to any vampire activity, but he’s not exactly someone to stand up and do battle with Serge.”
“Well, I when you put it that way…I thought it might be Max, but I didn’t want to ask. He’s fierce, but no match for Serge. And if Serge did make it through the office, I don’t want a scene like that at work. I’d never be able to explain it. There was enough talk after you came in the first time.”
The shock of my willing cooperation is unmistakable on Lucan’s face. I reach for my phone to call the office manager. I vacillate between the dead relative or super flu bug excuses while the phone rings. I’d never taken a sick day in all my years with the firm, but that was because I knew how the partners felt about it. I am going to need a doctor’s note to be out all week. Lucan can probably whip one of those up or get the Enclave's doctor to help me out.
When Natasha answers, I put on my best sick voice and tell her I am down with the flu, probably one of the H1-N1/bird/pig/horse variety, and I will be out a few days, maybe even the week. She buys it, probably because I’ve never called in sick before. As I hang up, I realize that if Lindsey hears I’m sick she will probably show up at my apartment with soup and a trashy magazine after work.
“Shit. I'm going to have to call Lindsey and let her know I'm okay. Otherwise, she’s liable to show up at my apartment to check on me. I don’t want her running into Serge.”
Lucan pats my arm as he gets up to start a pot of coffee for our troops. “Give her a call
. Max too. I don’t want him thinking you’ve been kidnapped between here and the office, or that I’ve gone and drained you,” he adds ironically.
I dial Linds’ number and think about what to say. We haven't had more than a passing conversation in weeks. There is so much she didn’t know, so much she couldn’t know.
“Hey Linds,” I says when she answers and then quickly remember I am supposed to be sick. “I just wanted to tell you I’m going to be out for a few days. I’ve got a nasty bug.”
“That’s no bueno. You’re never sick. Need me to bring you some soup and an US Weekly? It seems like I haven’t talked to you in ages. Are you still head over heels for that guy?”
Her predictability makes me smile. “No, I'm good. The doctor says I'm pretty contagious so you’d better steer clear of me for a few days. I’ll call you when I'm feeling better. We need to catch up. I am still head over heels for Lucan.” I drop my voice so Lucan is less likely to hear me over the coffeepot. “It’s getting pretty serious.”
“Serious like not coming back to work serious? Like running away to a tropical island and getting married serious?” Her voice is hopeful.
“Ah, well, maybe not that serious,” I lie. “But I just meant that we haven’t talked in a while, like you said.” I am beginning to fumble. Has Max told her something?
“Okay, well, get some rest. Have that boyfriend of yours take care of you.”
“I will. Don’t work too hard,” I reply. “Talk to you soon.”
If I'd gone in today, I would be drafting a motion to dismiss Sarah’s divorce case. Hicks will be pissed, but I'm sure his retainer is as nonrefundable as mine and probably twice as much. He’d be even more pissed to know his client is living in my guest room.
I roll over and stretch a little before getting up and heading to the bathroom. How the hell am I going to pass the week until Jonathan returns? There is little hope of finding Serge until he wants to be found, so I am pretty sure my life is going to be contained in our apartment until Friday. Work was supposed to be my outlet until then.
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